


Harmonia Mundi

by queeneleanor



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Classical Music, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bella likes control, F/F, Fluff and Angst, I wanted to read it so I wrote it, Mental Health Issues, Sane Bellatrix Black Lestrange, Useless Lesbians
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:02:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21536413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queeneleanor/pseuds/queeneleanor
Summary: Hermione Granger is the top pianist at her Conservatory when she meets Bellatrix Black, a powerful and wealthy CEO of a tech company. She's instantly smitten with the older woman, and a tumultuous relationship begins with the two. But Hermione's personal life comes crashing down when she makes a decision that threatens to tear the two women apart.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Black Lestrange
Comments: 8
Kudos: 90





	Harmonia Mundi

**Author's Note:**

> What can I say, I'm a sucker for this ship and for classical music AUs. Please leave kudos or comments if you enjoy! 
> 
> I'm planning on beginning each chapter with a musical selection for interested readers to listen to-it'll either show up in the chapter or I'll have listened to it repeatedly while writing. A musical theme, if you will.

(Musical Selection:  The Well-Tempered Clavier, Book 1, Prelude in C Major)

Hermione Granger was having an exceptionally bad day. 

To start, she had accidentally pressed the off button on her alarm instead of hitting snooze that morning, making her supremely late to her proseminar on the Second Viennese School and launching her straight into her packed Friday without any breakfast. 

Then, to make matters worse, her piano lesson with Josef had _not_ gone well; he harped at her for about ten minutes about her Mozart sonata and apparent lack of progress. It was true, she had been neglecting that piece slightly during her practice sessions, but to have Josef Dušek yell at her loudly in Czech was never fun.

Now, the zipper in her evening gown seemed to be stuck and she had discovered a run in her stocking. 

Glancing at the time and simultaneously hopping around her room to unstick the zipper, Hermione began to panic. The Conservatory Patrons Gala was tonight, and she was performing. She had been practicing her Bach obsessively for this evening, knowing that some of the city’s wealthiest (in her mind, snobbiest) would be gathered in Vager-Mills Hall to observe the top students from the Conservatory. 

She rifled through her sock drawer, drawing out a pair of stockings that were thankfully _not_ ripped, and poked her head out into the living room.

“Harry! Could use a hand!”

Her best friend practically bounced into the room, already dressed in a neat and spotless suit. Harry took one look at Hermione and understood, gently working the zipper until it loosened and secured the gown.

“You look stunning, ‘Mione,” Harry said, giving her an approving head-to-toe. “If I wasn’t gay, I’d—”

Hermione interrupted. “Hit me up. Honestly, Harry, you say it every time I’m wearing something that isn’t pyjamas.” She looked in the mirror, trying to figure out how to wear her hair. 

“Hey, you’re cute in your P.J’s,” Harry chuckled. “And wear your hair down, Hermione.”

“I can’t. It gets in my face when I play,” she retorted, and secured the unruly curls with a hasty up-do and pin. “Now come on, we’ll be late.”

They were almost out the door when Harry ran back in to grab his scarf. Hermione, muttering something about singers and their weird particularities, called an Uber in the hallway. 

She and Harry arrived at the Conservatory at quarter to six, just as fluffy beginning-of-November snowflakes began to coat the sidewalk. Hermione shivered, wishing she had worn a warmer coat. 

Hermione parted ways with her best friend to go run through her concert pieces a few times before their call. The Bach was challenging, that was for sure, but Hermione let her mind and muscle memory take over, following the same patterns of repetition, over and over until she felt calm enough to go down to the green room. 

Harry was already there, sitting down and reviewing his music, humming slightly to himself. Not wanting to disturb him, Hermione made her way over to a free chair next to Fleur Delacour, a graduate student at the Conservatory who, in Hermione’s opinion, was a bit full of her self but generally kind. Fleur was playing the fourth movement from Prokofiev’s Violin Sonata no. 2, and Hermione had heard her practicing all term. 

_She really is quite good_ , she mused. The school in France that Fleur had studied at before coming to the Conservatory was one of the top in Europe. Josef had mentioned it to her when they discussed her plans after graduation in May. 

Thinking about graduation sent a flurry of nerves to Hermione’s stomach. She glanced at the time, hearing the chatter of audience members outside the Hall. It was almost time for the Gala to begin, and sure enough, the voices of patrons and donors faded away as they entered to take their seats. 

Hermione and the other musicians glanced up when the faint voice of the Conservatory’s Head could be heard greeting the audience. 

Soon enough, the concert began. Harry was a few performers ahead of her, and Hermione whispered a quick ‘toi toi toi’ (the classical musician’s version of ‘break a leg’) as he passed to go onstage. 

Harry had been practicing Schumann’s _Winterreise_ for the past year, hoping to perform it in his graduate recital, and was performing one of the songs from the cycle at the Gala. His mellow baritone could just be heard in the green room, and Hermione smiled proudly. The two had met during their first day of classes at the Conservatory, and had quickly become best friends. Sure Harry could be a bit arrogant or moody at times, but he was deeply loyal and shared Hermione’s drive and ambition. You certainly needed it in this business. 

It was time for Hermione’s set. Breathing slightly on her hands to warm the fingers, she stood at the side door to the stage. When the audience’s applause began, she stepped forward through the opened door, walked to the piano and bowed. Taking care that the bench was raised enough, Hermione took a deep breath, eyes on the keys, and began. 

* * * * *

After the performance, audience members mingled with faculty and students in a grand side room. Hermione was chatting with Fleur and a few of the other students that had performed, sipping lightly on a glass of champagne. 

_Wow, the Board really went all-out on this event_ , she thought, glancing at the lavish decorations in the room. All of this was supposed to encourage to city’s elite to donate to the Conservatory and to showcase the school’s talent. 

Hermione saw Harry talking to a blonde-haired boy with a pale face. She excused herself and made her way over to them.

“Hey, Harry,” Hermione smiled. She was introduced to the blonde boy—Draco Malfoy, who was dressed elegantly in a green silk top. Draco was very obviously into her best friend, from the looks of it. 

Harry congratulated Hermione on her performance, and she noticed that his eyes never looked away from Draco for long. Harry had just mentioned the after-party a few music students had organized for later that evening when she heard her name. 

Josef walking towards her, alongside the Chair of the Conservatory’s Board of Directors. 

“Hermione,” Josef said, “I was just telling Cornelius here that you are only graduating this spring. He thought you were at least a graduate student.”

Hermione smiled, turning politely to the other man, who was chuckling. 

“You’re a talented performer, that’s for sure,” the Board Chair said. “In fact, Professor Dušek and I were hoping you could do us a little favour.” He motioned slightly to across the room to a woman whose back was turned to them. “Over there is the CEO of Black Industries. We’ve been trying to sign her on as a patron for some time now, but to no avail.” 

Josef interjected. “Ms. Black was highly complementary of your performance, Hermione. We’d like you to introduce yourself.”

Hermione sighed inwardly. Chatting up donors was part of being a musician, and she had been fully prepared to do so at the Gala. Her performance had taken more energy out of her than she’d realized, however, and brown-nosing to some wealthy stranger was the last thing she wanted to do. 

She smiled, though, and nodded. Before heading across the floor, Hermione drained what little was left in her glass and placed it on a table.

Hermione looked in vain for the woman that had been pointed out to her and a quick survey of the room didn’t reveal the CEO of Black Industries. 

_Maybe she’s in the bathroom_ , Hermione thought, _or maybe she’s gone home…_

A light hand at her elbow and a low voice in her ear caused her to jump slight. 

“Miss Granger. Congratulations on a… _thrilling_ performance.”

Hermione turned to meet a pair of pitch-black eyes under heavy lids. A tall, stunning woman was standing before her, with a cascade of thick, shining dark hair draping her pale face, and dressed in an extremely smart suit.

The woman took her hand off of Hermione’s elbow and extended it to shake. 

“Bellatrix Black. A pleasure.”

Hermione took the offered hand, still staring like an idiot, then remembered her manners. 

“Ms. Black, thank you for coming,” Hermione heard her own voice squeak. 

The woman looked amused, and Hermione followed her gaze to realize that she was still holding her hand. 

Embarrassed, Hermione let go at once, letting her hand fall down by her side. 

“Please,” Ms. Black said, with laughter dancing sightly in those dark eyes, “call me Bellatrix.” 

Blinking rapidly, Hermione cast about for something to say.

_C’mon, idiot! You’re supposed to get her patronage for the school._

“Well, Ms. Bl—Bellatrix, I’m pleased you enjoyed the performance. The Conservatory prides itself on—” Hermione found herself interrupted with a small laugh from the other woman.

“Oh please, Miss Granger, save your well-rehearsed speech for the other would-be-donors.” Bellatrix laughed again. “You can tell old Cornelius that he wins. If your performance tonight was anything to judge by,” here Bellatrix cocked an eyebrow and gave Hermione an appraising look, “then the school is obviously doing some good and fostering the arts… yada yada.”

Bellatrix took a sip of her drink—it looked to be scotch, Hermione noticed—and stood silently, eyes locked on Hermione. 

She felt a flush spread across her cheeks at the way the older woman was looking at her, like something _wanted_. Suddenly Hermione wanted nothing more than to have this woman stare at her. Forever. 

_Don’t be daft,_ she chided herself. 

“Hermione!”

Harry’s voice cut through Hermione’s train of thought. She turned to see him walking towards herself and Bellatrix with a grin. 

“We’d better head out soon if we want to change before the party,” Harry mentioned to her before introducing himself to Bellatrix. 

Hermione racked her brains. _Party?_

Harry caught this and rolled his eyes slightly. “The party, Hermione. At Seamus’ place?” He shook his head.

“Hermione lives in a world of her own,” Harry told Bellatrix. “Eat, sleep, play the piano. Repeat. I sometimes think she’s a music alien or something.” 

Hermione scowled slightly, poking Harry in the ribs. “I am not an alien, thank you very much. Maybe you should follow my example and actually spend more time in a practice room.”

Bellatrix observed the two with an interested look. “I know what you all do here is intense, but both of your performances were superb. It clearly pays off.” The last part was directed at Hermione. 

“I’ll call an Uber when you’re ready to leave,” Harry mentioned, “It was a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Black, and thank you for attending!” He a sly look in his eye as he glanced at Bellatrix before heading off.

Hermione looked at his retreating back, suddenly not interested in leaving. Her tiredness post-performance was gone, erased by whatever electric thrill had surged through her body upon meeting Bellatrix.

_The party…_ She had been planning on skipping, and practicing her usual post-performance ritual of a hot bath, peppermint tea, and lots of sleep. Hermione found that sleep was the furthest thing from her mind at this moment though. The alluring woman in front of her captured all of her interest.

_Harry obvious wants me to go, though…_ and there had been too many nights where Hermione had begged out of social gatherings to sleep or practice. Plus, she knew Harry would want to gush about Draco. Blondes were definitely his type.

Bellatrix leaned in, lightly placing her hand on Hermione’s arm. “Congratulations again on a wonderful performance, Miss Granger. You’d best not keep your friend waiting, however. Unless…” The older woman seemed to be struggling internally with something and pursed her lips. 

Hermione shifted slightly. Her palms felt sweaty. “Unless?” She prompted.

“Unless you’d like to join me for a drink,” the dark-haired woman asked. “Away from all…this.” Bellatrix waved her hand derisively. 

Hermione could’t think of something to say. Bellatrix seemed to take her silence as an answer. 

“Of course, how terribly rude of me. Of course you have a party waiting. All of you deserve a little breather after tonight’s performance. I can’t imagine how stressful it must be.” The older woman was talking a bit faster, and her hand left Hermione’s arm. 

“I’d love to,” Hermione answered, some bold part of her brain speaking up. She looked up hopefully.

Bellatrix’s dark eyes sparkled. “Here’s my number,” she said, handing over a card. “My personal one, not for work. Give me a call, and I’ll see you for that drink...either tonight, or some other time.”

Hermione watched as Bellatrix smiled at her then turned away. Her head felt light as air, and she gathered her things to go meet Harry and Draco outside the Hall. 

Putting on her coat, Hermione looked down at Bellatrix’s card. It was black, with raised silver words detailing a phone number and the initials B.B. 

_Bellatrix Black_.

The name sent a thrill through Hermione. 


End file.
